


(Won’t Tell You) My Sign

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blowjobs, Bunnyboys, Cannibalism, Catboys, Cuckolding, English moorland game-hunter AU, Gun play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 12:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There's nothing like the thrill of the hunt.





	(Won’t Tell You) My Sign

———

The wind whistled eerily across the heath in a haunting vibrato as they walked. The sun blotted out by the unrelenting blanket of grey cloud that hung low over the moorlands, bringing with it soft showers of cold mist that soaked through even the most expensive hunting leathers.

Meticulously polished rifles hung in the crooks of their elbows; mist clinging to the long, black barrels, to coalesce into long streaks of moisture that dripped from the engraved wooden stocks as they walked.

Their tweeds were damp and cold, flat caps pulled low over their respective brows as they waded through the thorny shrub, ears pricked for any movement accessory to their own. 

Hunters stalking prey with keen senses and even sharper shots.

There was a rustle further across the way. The crunch of leaves.

“ _Otabek._ ”

Otabek didn’t need his hunting partner to alert him; one wide palm raising the barrel as the butt settled in the strong curve of his shoulder. One dark eye squinting down the barrel, his mouth set into a hard line.

Emil was close enough that Otabek could see the condensation of warm air that fled his lungs with each exhalation. Though his blue eyes were set into the brush, the same as Otabek’s, he could gleam the smug grin that settled across his bearded face.

He was close enough to remind Otabek of the stakes of this shot.

Otabek’s brown darkened, and he grit his jaw trying to ignore the other hunter.

Set deep into the purplish leaves of the heath he spotted much darker, dappled crimson feathers. He watched the pheasant’s fancied pattern shift through the underbrush, finger tips pulling back the bolt of his rifle with a slow metallic grind and…

_click_

The pheasant’s decorated head shot up from the underbrush, seeking the source of the noise.

He waited for a clear shot.

The shot that would have him back at the lodge, tweeds hung to dry by a roaring fireplace and smoking a pipe on his worn leather armchair. His kitten curled up in his lap and purring as he fed him morsels of roast pheasant on an etched silver fork, pink tongue depressing against the points of the utensil as he licked away the lingering taste of rosemary and sage. 

His ivory-white tail would swing back and forth, brushing against Otabek’s knees as his claws dug into his chest. Tight little ass grinding down on Otabek’s lap whilst his blonde hair and pointed ears were haloed by the red-flicker of the fireplace.

_What else did you bring back for me, Daddy…_

“Otabek!”

The urgency in Emil’s voice snapped him out of the fantasy.

Otabek’s finger twitched on the trigger and he fired; gunshot echoing over and over again through the moorland. His shoulder jerked against the stock of the rifle as he watched the unharmed pheasant flail in momentary shock.

“I got it!”

Emil crowed, bringing his own rifle up to bare and ratcheting the bolt with a wide, white-toothed grin. The pheasant took flight, long golden tail trailing through the mist as it sought to find shelter in the woodland across the moorland valley.

Otabek watched the barrel of Emil’s gun gracefully trace the arc of the pheasant’s flight in the air. 

Emil licked his lips, one blue eye narrowing over the bolt-head as he fired into the sky.

Otabek didn’t need to see the puff of crimson feathers to know the bullet met it’s target. 

He didn’t need to hear the dull thump of the bird’s body as it came crashing back to earth.

Emil hooted and slapped him on the back in a way that seemed intentionally condescending.

“Better luck next time.”

He leaned down to croon in Otabek’s ear, close enough he felt the bristles of the other hunter’s chin tickle the shell of his ear. 

Otabek tried not to make his displeasure even more obvious as he batted him away, striding in high leather hunting boots across the underbrush to retrieve the bird’s carcass. He pulled his flat cap down even lower to hide the annoyed twitch of his eyebrow, leaning into examine the clean shot that pieced the animals throat.

_Lucky._

His mind justified, exhaling from his nose with a huff.

From behind him, Emil pulled a fragrant leather pouch from his tweed pocket, mashing keef into the bowl of his wooden pipe as he watched Otabek tie a thin line of twine around the bird’s feet.

Otabek ears pricked up as he heard the match strike off the bottom of the other hunter’s boot heel. He picked up the tied ‘prize’, turning back to see Emil’s smug smirk hazed in smoke, as he took a few puffs of his pipe. He doused the match with a flick of his wrist and sent it flying into the wet heath.

“Try not to look so disappointed, friend.” 

Emil giggled, rifle hooked on his elbow and words working around the pipe grit between his teeth.

Otabek sniffed into the cold mist, fingers curled around the white twine of their catch, mind already miles away from the moorland. He’d be in the shadows of the fireplace tonight, watching, waiting as the other hunter’s beard scratched against his kitten’s smooth chest. 

He was barely even aware of Emil pulling the pheasant free from his grip.

“Come on, let’s head back.”

Otabek could already hear the whines and purrs as the kitten struggles against the scratching kisses— _tickles, Daddy_ — as his lithe body contorts away in vain; as the other hunter’s thick cock settled between his cheeks and pounds in _too hard_ and _too fast_ for his kitten to handle.

“No.”

Emil’s head cocks to the side, smoke puffing from the corner of his mouth as he looked at him blankly.

Otabek shakes his head, adjusting his flat cap and looking back out into the misty heath, jaw set hard against the thick tendons of his neck. Eyes seeking out the woodland across the way.

“I’m staying. Go on without me.”

Emil clicked his tongue, shouldering the dead pheasant over his shoulder as he tapped the ash out of his pipe.

He smiled and shrugged.

———

Otabek’s muddied boots crunched against the leaf litter. The snap of twigs so incredibly loud in the almost-silent wood.

They didn’t often hunt there. It was dark, and often dangerous. Other hunters they met in the village said there were wolves, or witches, or worse.

But Otabek didn’t believe stupid folk tales. He was a practical man. A hunter. 

And he reasoned with an all-but-practical mindset that the only thing better than a kitten curled up on his lap eating roast pheasant from expensive silverware, was a kitten curled up on his lap eating venison from his fingertips. 

A rough tongue licking up the grease that would worm it’s way down his wrist.

The thought spurred him onward, squinting against the dappled light of the canopy and pressing further into the grey and misty wood. The trunks of the trees creaked with the wind, joined by the occasional caw of a raven flying overhead.

Otabek’s ear tuned to the noises of the wood, holding back the mixed flashes of memory and fantasy that made his half-hard cock twitch against the rough material of his tweeds. He’d stowed his flat cap; immaculately coiffed black hair and shaved nape exposed to the damp air of the forest, as he moved over fallen logs and between branches.

From behind him there was a resonating ‘snap’ of a tree branch.

He whipped about, barrel of his rifle coming to bare as he stared through the line of trees. Trying to pick apart a rack of antlers or the clop of hooves against dying leaves.

A few more crunches of broken leaves and Otabek was stalking forward, rifle armed and finger on the trigger. He moved around a massive, dead oak; avoiding the touch of the rough bark against his hunting jacket.

The noise quieted from the other side of the trunk.

Otabek exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes for just a moment, one finger grazing the trigger of his rifle.

A twig snapped.

Otabek launched himself around the grey trunk of the oak, teeth bared in a snarl as he was ready to shoot whatever creature met the barrel of his rifle.

He was met with two very wide, very surprised, blue eyes.

“Don’t shoot!”

The creature yelped, cowering on his knees, bare skin digging into brown earth and rotted leaves as his hands covered his face, ducking his head away from the rifle.

Otabek paused, though his stance remained strong, ready to spring, to shoot at any moment. He fingered the trigger suspiciously as he glared down with a sharp frown at the creature.

A man(?) but for the long pinkish ears that sprouted from the crop of black hair on top of his head.

Otabek stared incredulously down the barrel of his gun at the cowering creature. Eyes shifting over his bare skin just a little to catch the pink fluffy tail that sat between the dimples at the base of his spine. 

Bare ass exposed for the whole world to see.

Otabek’s finger itched on the trigger.

“The fuck are you?”

He growled out. The creature peaked between his fingers, blue eyes mischievous as he dropped them from his face to stare up at him through thick, black eyelashes.

“A bunny. You never seen a bunny before?” His mouth curled into a teasing grin, “well, truth is I got cursed bu—“

“I don’t care.”

Otabek interrupted, shifting his rifle against his shoulder, shot still aimed between the bunny’s eyes.

“I don’t hunt marsh hare.”

He grit out.

“Well!” the bunny declared with a laugh not-suited to a shy, _quiet_ animal, “Good thing I’m not a marsh hare then, huh?”

Otabek gave him a deadpan stare, not falling for whatever trick the creature could be playing. He may not have believed in folk tales, but if bunnies were like kittens he wouldn’t trust this one as far as he could throw him.

Besides, Emil was probably already back at the lodge by now, a naked kitten spread out on the bear-skin rug as he tugged at his tail, fucking into him with a stoned-out giggle.

Otabek frowned at the intrusive thought. The bunny must have gotten a whiff of his anger as he knelt still on the forest floor, eyes still wide and untrusting.

“What’s your name?”

“Jean-Jacques!” 

The bunny gave a wide, sincere smile that illuminated his handsome face, “but you can call me JJ.”

His palms settled onto his bare thighs as he knelt in the dirt, long ears twitching and moving with every tiny sound that echoed in the wood around them.

Otabek's dark eyes watched his fingers clench and unclench against his bare, tanned skin. Muscled thighs twitching as if ready to flee at the first opportunity (and the hunter had no doubt he would). His soft, uncut cock hung against his thigh, balls drawn up tight against his body with the cold.

“So, uh,” JJ shifted a little in the dirt, Otabek’s chin snapping back up to attention from the unwitting stare that had settled on the bunny’s cock, “you gonna let me go now?”

There was one, rational, practical part of Otabek’s brain that told him that would be the best course of action. Letting the naked bunny run back into the wood and continue his hunt for some far better beast to bring back to the lodge. 

A stag or even a wolf.

A meaningless trophy to hang over the fireplace where the kitten curled up asleep, face streaked with the other hunter’s cum…

But there was another, far less practical part of Otabek’s brain that had him staring over the bunny’s head, down at his cotton-puff tail and curved ass that pressed against the dirtied soles of his feet.

“Please, I gotta family. A fiance…” 

JJ stared up the barrel of the rifle with wide blue eyes.

Otabek saw the bunny swallow, not bothering to question the logic of betrothed woodland creatures. 

“I’ll do anything.”

Otabek’s dark eye brows shot up his forehead.

“Anything?”

JJ nodded dumbly, long pink bunny-ears bobbing with the motion. He flinched as Otabek brought the barrel of his rifle down closer to his face, eyes wide in sudden fear as the cold metal pressed against his chin.

“Show me.”

Otabek whispered, dark eyes glazed as he watched the bunny’s eyes flash in confusion.

“Show you?”

JJ whimpered, the smell of gun powder making his sensitive nose twitch.

Otabek merely nodded, dragging the barrel of his rifle up to press at JJ’s lips.

He watched as the black metal parted around JJ’s firm lips, clicking against white teeth.

The bunny seemed to catch on, confused look dissipating a little as he parted his jaw around the barrel of the gun. His tongue licked flat against the single barrel as Otabek watched him shiver with fear, and maybe something else.

He pushed the tip of the rifle further forward, finger never leaving the trigger as he opened the bunny’s mouth up wider.

JJ’s lips closed around the cold black metal, eye lashes fluttering closed as he slowly dragged his mouth back up the barrel, eyes watering at the acrid taste of burnt gunpowder. There was a coating of saliva on the end of the rifle that linked JJ’s lips to the barrel as he dipped back in once more.

Otabek watched him sink down, feeling the sudden resistance as the tip of his rifle met the back of the bunny’s throat. He settled there, a tear rolling down a cheek as he stared up at the hunter with a daring sparkle of blue eyes.

He glanced past the end of his rifle to see JJ’s hand circle around the base of his own cock, giving himself a sharp tug.

Otabek growled, suddenly withdrawing his rifle with a ‘pop’ from JJ’s mouth, he took a step closer, hand ducking into his tweeds as he pulled his cock free from the laces.

For a second he thought JJ would bolt. His bunny ears twitched and his hand paused at the dark crop of pubic hair at the base of his cock. Otabek trapped him with a dark look, one hand still gripping his rifle at his side in a constant reminder, as his other hand pumped his cock, one, twice, to full hardness.

JJ gulped, leaning forward on his knees, nose twitching as he opened his mouth to lick at the tip of the hunter’s cock.

Otabek growled, hand finding the base of one of the bunny ears perched on top of JJ’s head and pushed him down on his cock.

JJ croaked against him, fist working over his own cock as he sunk slowly down the inches-upon-inches until he felt himself start to choke.

Otabek held him there, watching him try to swallow down air, nostrils flaring and eyes watering. Just as he felt JJ gag, he yanked on the fur of his pinks ear, pulling him off his cock with a ragged gasp for air.

Turns out bunnies weren’t like kitties; they couldn’t take his cock down their throat with a happy purr, ass in the air, pretty tail swinging hypnotically side-to-side.

But that didn’t really matter. 

Otabek’s kitten was sucking some other hunter’s cock right now.

JJ gasped as Otabek reeled him back in, flared head of his cock parting his lips obscenely as he thrust in and out of his mouth.

JJ’s hand flew over his own cock, whimpering and tail twitching as he fisted himself in uneven strokes against Otabek’s thrusts that fucked in and out of his mouth. The tweed of the hunter’s trousers itched his nose, iridescent white cat hair stuck to the fabric.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gagged, saliva dribbling from the corners of his mouth as Otabek hissed between his teeth, eyes closing but finger _never leaving that trigger_.

Otabek’s eyes snapped open as he felt JJ groan around his dick, looking down to see the bunny’s own cock twitch and spurt cum across his knuckles and onto the dark earth and leaf litter. White streaks marring the insides of his tanned thighs where he knelt.

He growled, pulling free his cock with a tug, one boot heel coming to kick at the bunny’s shoulder, sending him sprawling on his belly against the forest floor, face red still gasping for air.

With the speed of a seasoned hunter, Otabek was on him in an instant, barrel of his rifle pressed into shaved black hair at the base of JJ’s skull as he kept him from fleeing into the wood. He straddled his thighs, free hand flying over his saliva-slickened cock in wet ‘slaps’ of palm on skin.

A few strands of black hair stuck to his forehead in the damp mist, feeling the bunny under him shudder and watching his pink ears twitch with fear as the cold metal pressed up against his skull.

Otabek could only pump his cock once more before he came, shooting lines of cum across JJ’s ass and lower back. White streaks catching over the pink cotton-ball tail that twitched as JJ gasped in a breath with his cheek pressed against the dirt.

Their laboured breathing echoed through the wood, the distant ‘hoot’ of owls and whistling winds the only other sounds that reverberating around the two.

JJ swallowed, pink ears marred with dirt as he breathed against the dead leaves.

“You gonna let me go now…?”

He could only feel the itching fabric of tweed on his bare thighs as the hunter shifted, spent cock slapping against his ass.

There was a rustle. The noise of ravens circling overhead.

His long ears twitched as he heard the slow metallic scrape as the hunter cranked bolt on his rifle.

JJ’s blue eyes widened.

———

Yuri purred softly as he curled himself around his hunter’s lap. Bell on his white-leather collar tinkling with each movement as his bare thighs squeaked against the aged leather arm chair. 

His claws kneaded into Otabek’s chest, sharp nails snagging at his unbuttoned hunting vest as his tweeds hung by the fire to dry.

In the shadowy corner, Emil flipped through a book, quietly puffing his pipe in small grey clouds that floated in the air before dissipating up to the wooden beams of the lodge.

Yuri licked at the grease that wormed it’s way down Otabek’s wrist, rough tongue sticking to golden skin as he swallowed every last trace of meat. He licked across his wide palm, rough finger tips that held the cooked morsel between his fingers seeking out Yuri’s open mouth. 

His pink lips were shiny with grease in the flickering light of the fire. Yuri took the cooked meat between his teeth, lips closing around the tips of Otabek’s fingers as he swallowed it with a pleased purr.

Otabek smiled, other hand petting at his kitten’s golden hair, sparkling in the yellow light. He felt Yuri’s tail brush between his knees as he snuggled close.

“Delicious, Daddy.”

The kitten purred, arching close.

Otabek hummed, greasy fingers trailing down the notches of Yuri’s spine to grip the base of his tail, feeling the kitten squirm against him.

His brow grew dark, leaning down to whisper gently against one fuzzy, white ear.

“Only bunny pies for my kitten from now on.”

———

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN


End file.
